I Think I Wanna Marry You
by after-midnightmunchies
Summary: The moment that Arthur stepped into Alfred's kindergarten class made the American a firm believer in fate. A collection of snippets from the adolescence of two boys trying to navigate their feelings for each other. (For USUK Sweethearts Week Day #3 on Tumblr)


Alfred was certain that fate had brought them together. The moment that the short blond with striking green eyes and refined demeanor entered his kindergarten classroom, his stomach fluttered and his heart momentarily stopped.

"Class, this is Arthur Kirkland," his teacher, an exuberant middle-aged African American woman, sang. "He just moved here from London, England, so let's all give him a warm welcome!"

Their class was a melting pot of cultures, a result of their parent's occupations. The school itself was designed for the children of ambassadors to the United States, as well as certain American political leaders. Alfred's father was a member of the president's cabinet; his mother served as the First Lady's secretary. Arthur was probably the son of the new ambassador from the United Kingdom.

"Now, let's see," his teacher continued, tapping her chin as she scanned the room. "Ah! There's an empty seat beside Alfred! Mr. Jones, would you please raise your hand so that Arthur knows who you are?"

Alfred blushed as all eyes turned on him, some passive and others envious. He offered a smile and raised his right hand.

Jade eyes scanned the room before settling on him, the owner's mouth twitching upward into a grin. He whispered something to the teacher before shouldering his bag and making his way toward the empty desk.

Alfred found himself incapable of moving his own cobalt orbs from the new student, even as their teacher began the day's lesson. He watched a pale hand meticulously remove books and pencils from the King Arthur backpack and place them on or in the desk.

"You know, it's impolite to stare," an accented voice half-heartedly scolded. Emerald eyes shot toward him, and Alfred was mesmerized by the vibrant color.

"S-Sorry," he stuttered, blush returning. "I-I didn't know I w-was…"

He shook his head, attempting to clear whatever trance his new classmate had thrown him into. "I'm Alfred," he smiled, offering his hand.

Arthur cracked a smile in response. "I already know your name, silly," he countered, shaking the American's hand.

"Oh yeah," Alfred chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Well, Artie, I have a feeling we're gonna be great friends!"

Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but was silenced by their teacher. "Mr. Jones, Mr. Kirkland, while I'm glad that you two are getting along, you may do so on the playground, not in my classroom. Now please, pay attention to the lesson."

Arthur nodded, muttering a hasty, "sorry," and opening his math textbook. Alfred lowered his head to the page, absentmindedly rubbing the hand that had touched Arthur's. He could still feel the tingling sensation running all the way up his arm.

* * *

"Hey Artie, are you busy today? You should come to my house!"

"It's Arthur, not 'Artie,' git," the Briton lightly chided, "and maybe another time. My parents need me to finish unpacking."

Alfred's smile brightened. "Oooh, can I come? I can help you move stuff! I'm really strong! Please~?"

Arthur smiled at the other's exuberance. "I suppose you could come," he answered. "My parents did tell me to make friends."

"So you're sayin' we're friends?" Alfred gasped, face nearly splitting under the width of his smile.

Arthur blushed, realizing what he'd just admitted. "Well, I thought… I mean, unless you don't want to-" His feet were suddenly off of the ground, and the world was spinning.

"Of course I want us to be friends! I told you that already!" Alfred cheered, arms snug around Arthur's waist.

"A-Alfred! Getting… dizzy!"

Alfred set him down, holding his shoulders to keep him steady. The English boy sighed once his vision cleared, attempting to brush the wrinkles out of his clothes. "Right, well let's go."

Alfred eagerly followed the other to his car, sending a quick text to his own driver to alert him of his plans.

* * *

"I'm sorry about the mess," Arthur apologized, knocking on his front door. "Like I said, we're still unpacking, so there are boxes and stuff everywhere."

A tall man with fiery red hair and a cigarette caught between his lips smiled down at them. His disheveled countenance clashed with the regal cream-colored house he stood at the threshold of.

"Artie! Yer home!" he greeted, messing with the younger's hair. Alfred noted that they shared the same green eyes, but his accent was dissimilar to Arthur's.

"It's Arthur, git," the blond growled, running his hands through his tousled hair. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at work, too?"

"The Scottish ambassador doesn't need me 'til tomorrow," the redhead answered, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"Those things are bad for you, Alistair," Arthur admonished with a scowl, "and I don't need your secondhand smoke p…po..lluting my lungs."

Alistair choked. "Who the bloody hell told ya that?"

"Our teacher taught us that today in class," Alfred piped up, looking away anxiously when green eyes glared down at him.

The Scotsman's gaze became one of amusement as he took the American in. "Way ta go, Artie! First day an' ya already managed to get yerself a boyfriend!"

The blush that overtook both boys' faces was worth the hits their small fists threw at him.

"Alistair, who's at the door?" a voice called from inside.

Alistair stepped aside, granting the boys entry. They strode past him to face two men. Both men had short, well maintained blond hair. The taller of the two had bold sapphire eyes framed by stylish glasses, and he wore a light blue dress shirt tucked into black slacks. The other had brilliant sea green eyes and slight facial hair; he was dressed in a simple beige sweater and faded jeans.

"Art, you're home!" the shorter one, whose voice Alfred recognized from before, stooped down and opened his arms wide.

Arthur raced into the embrace without hesitation, a bright smile stretching his facial features.

Alfred, on the other hand, was frozen in shock, eyes locked on the other man. "Dad, what are you doing here?"

His father also welcomed his son with open arms and a cheerful beam. "I'm just helping Mr. Kirkland here move in," he answered. "The president has assigned me to work closely with him."

"We were actually talking about you two," Arthur's father added. "We were hoping that you two got along today, because it looks like you'll be seeing a lot of each other."

Alfred and Arthur looked at each other, goofy grins plastered to their faces.

* * *

"Hey, Artie, have you asked anyone to the eighth grade dance, yet?" Alfred asked through his mouthful of a McDonald's cheeseburger.

"Ew, will you ever learn to chew with your mouth closed?" Arthur frowned, taking a napkin and wiping a smudged bit of ketchup from the corner of his best friend's mouth. "No, I have not asked anyone. I don't think I'll go."

Alfred dropped his burger back onto the plate dramatically, electric blue eyes wide in shock. "What do you mean? Of course you have to go! It's the eighth grade dance! This is like the prom of middle school!"

"Which is precisely why I'm not going," Arthur countered, playing with his salad. "What's the point? It's all just superficial nonsense that I'd rather not be part of."

Alfred scoffed and rolled his eyes. "You're just sayin' that 'cuz you don't have a date."

"How many times are you going to make me correct your grammar?" Arthur grumbled, giving an eye-roll of his own. "And what makes you think I'm bitter about not having a date? I could get one if I wanted!"

"Sure you could," Alfred chuckled. "And I could go to NASA right now and be on the next shuttle to the moon."

Arthur sighed. "Why do you want me to go so badly?"

Alfred blushed, quickly sucking down a gulp of Diet Coke in an effort to cover it. Arthur raised a brow at this.

"Alfred, is there something that you would like to ask me?" Arthur inquired with a smirk.

The American looked away bashfully. "Well… I was hoping that maybe… we could possibly… go together?" Hopeful baby blue eyes turned on the Briton suddenly.

Despite his anticipation of the question, Arthur couldn't mask the blush that crossed his features. He was silent for a moment, the reality of the situation sinking in.

"Alright," he finally answered, "I'll go with you on one condition!" He raised a finger to pause Alfred's premature celebration. "You have to stop speaking with your mouth full."

Alfred leaped out of his chair in excitement. He leaned over the table and pulled Arthur into a warm bear hug.

"Git! Let go of me, people are staring!"

"Only if you agree to dance with me, too!"

"W-Wha-No! No way!" Arthur stuttered, unprepared for the sudden demand.

"Then I guess we should just smile for the camera phones, then-"

"Fine! We'll dance, too! Just… let me go… I can't… breathe!" He fell back into his chair with a solid _thump_, gasping for air.

"Yay!" Alfred cheered, giving the air a fist pump. "Hey, Artie, were you always this pale?"

* * *

The dance was held at a nightclub that the school had rented for the day. That Friday, the entire eight grade class came to school dressed up in their finest suits and dresses, (which were pretty extravagant, considering how much their parents were paid).

Alfred was dressed in a lavish navy blue suit with black trim and shiny black shoes. His mother had insisted on slicking his hair back, with the exception of that random cowlick that always stuck up at the front of his head. He waltzed onto the campus, all eyes trained on him despite the fact that everyone else was also dressed up.

He sauntered into his homeroom, a small bouquet of roses in hand. Immediately, all of the girls in the room, single and taken, flocked to his side.

"Alfred, who are those roses for?"

"You know, it's not too late to ask me!"

"I can still dump my date!"

"I don't mind ditching my girlfriends for you!"

"Alfred, do you even have a date?"

The door suddenly creaked open, and the room fell silent. Alfred spun to see what had caught everyone's attention, and found his own jaw drop.

Sparkles literally radiated off of Arthur. The blond was dressed in a light blue suit and Italian leather shoes. His own hair was brushed back, giving everyone an unobstructed view of his striking lime green eyes. He himself carried a single rose, which he offered Alfred once he stepped up to him.

"Here, I thought it would be rude to come empty handed, even if you did ask me," Arthur murmured, looking away as his face broke out in a pink flush.

Alfred cleared his throat nervously, accepting the rose and handing him the bouquet. "Thanks. I brought some for you, too."

Arthur smiled and took the offering, their fingers brushing as he did so. "Thank you. They are lovely."

The girls watched intently, swooning at the display of affection. A loud screech over the PA shattered the atmosphere as their principal came on to announce the order of events.

Before they knew it, they were seated on the large coach bus and on their way to the club. Alfred slipped his hand into Arthur's, loving the warmth that he received from the simple touch.

The ride was brief. The buses were unloaded and the teens rushed into the dark building, where the DJ was already spinning tracks for them. Rows of tables were spread out in an adjoining room, and a buffet was being set out by the staff. Near the dancefloor was a drink/dessert table, glasses of soda and juice being freshly poured.

Arthur led Alfred to a small table where they discarded their suit jackets to mark their spot. "Would you like to dance first, or eat?" he shouted over the music.

"Which do you prefer?" Alfred yelled back.

Arthur took a moment to weigh the options carefully. If they ate first, then they'd have to wait for the food to settle before dancing. Then again, if they danced first, then they'd have to wait longer to get food while everyone else does. Plus, the dancefloor would be crowded with all of the eager bodies, and the food _was_ fresh now- might as well enjoy it hot.

"Let's eat," he decided.

* * *

The day progressed smoothly: they ate, chatted with a couple of their classmates at the bar, played a round of pool (which Alfred turned out to be a shark at), and danced to some of the pop tracks that the DJ played.

As the latest song ended, the DJ picked up the microphone, tapping it a few times before speaking. "What's up eighth graders? Are you all having a good time?"

A resounding cheer was her answer.

"Great! Now it's the moment you've all been waiting for! We're gonna slow things down here, so grab your date, or maybe even your crush, or hey, how about that random cute kid over there!"

She began to play a slow serenade. Couples began to pair off and dance together in the center of the dancefloor. Single groups grumbled bitterly and sat down in the surrounding booths.

Alfred turned to Arthur, trying to read his expression in the faint light. "We don't have to if you don't want to," he offered gently.

"What if I want to?" Arthur bit his lip, glancing in the opposite direction.

Alfred's eyes lit up. _'Arthur wants to dance a slow dance with me?'_ He mentally slapped himself. _'Nope, I'm not dreaming!'_

"Oi, if we don't hurry, we'll miss the song," Arthur stated, swatting Alfred's upper arm lightly.

Alfred nodded, taking Arthur's hand and leading him further onto the floor. He placed his hands on Arthur's waist, the Brit responding by wrapping his arms around Alfred's neck. They were so close that their chests brushed against each other as they swayed to and fro to the beat.

The song ended all too quickly for either party's liking, and they reluctantly pulled apart, faces red and thankfully masked by the multi-colored flashing lights.

Alfred led them to the dessert table, then back to their own. He munched on a slice of chocolate cake and cookies while Arthur nibbled on a slice of cheesecake. As they sat, the pace of the party picked up again, the DJ playing a Bruno Mars song that was familiar to the American.

"Hey Artie," Alfred spoke up after the long stretch of silence.

"What?" Arthur asked, no longer bothered by the affectionate nickname.

Alfred took Arthur's hand again, then waited for the perfect line before singing along to it, eyes trained on his date. "_I think I wanna marry you~_"

Arthur choked, once again grateful for the poor lighting. "D-Don't joke about something like that," he reprimanded.

Alfred pouted. "What do you mean, Artie? What if I meant it?"

Arthur scoffed, trying to mask the hurt in his voice. "How could you mean something like that? Marriage is a serious thing, and we're not even in high school yet!"

Alfred paused contemplatively. "What if I say the same thing at prom? Would you believe me then?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Yes, Alfred. If you somehow manage to stay this infatuated with me by the end of high school, then yes, I would believe you. I may even grant your request."

Alfred's demeanor brightened with hope. _Four more years… I've waited this long for you; I can wait a little longer._ He gave the warm hand in his a promising squeeze before retracting his own.

* * *

The summer before junior year saw Alfred off to a NASA space camp and Arthur to a Harvard literature program. They had only seen each other once before embarking on their endeavors. Alfred couldn't predict that his experience at university with hundreds of other teens and young adults would alter Arthur so much.

"What do you mean, you're 'punk' now?" he exclaimed, trying to comprehend the abrupt shift in Arthur's… everything.

In his absence, the Brit had gotten piercings along the curve of his left ear, both earlobes, his right eyebrow, and near the corner of his lower lip; dyed part of his hair a faint lime green; and gotten a tattoo of an electric guitar on his lower back. As far as style of dress went, Alfred was surprised that he'd managed to get so much black and red past the uniform patrol.

"The other teens at the camp showed me how expressiveness can be translated to outward appearance, not just paper," Arthur shrugged.

"Yeah, but isn't it uncomfortable?" Alfred winced.

"I'll admit that the tattoo hurts from time to time, but it's really hot," he winked.

Alfred blushed, shaking his head. "It's just… this isn't the Artie I'm used to."

Arthur read the dejected look on the American's face and sighed. "I'm sorry that you feel that way, Alfred, but while I'm still a teen, I want to be able to experiment. Can't you allow me that?"

Alfred sighed. He wanted to support Arthur, but the whole change was shocking and frankly scared him. He really didn't know how to approach the whole thing.

"Honestly, I don't know if I can back you up on this…" he finally admitted, running a hand through his hair. "It's bizarre and out of my element. I won't stand in your way, though. If you want to try this, then by all means, go ahead." He offered what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

Arthur nodded. "Alright then, I guess this is a temporary goodbye?" He held a hand out for Alfred to shake.

The American stared down at the hand, fearful that the farewell could be permanent. "Let's hope it doesn't last too long," he agreed, taking the warm hand into his own. His fingers brushed over cold metal rings, and he frowned at the unfamiliarity.

'_It's just a phase,'_ he reminded himself. _'He'll be back before you know it.'_

* * *

It did turn out to be a phase, but Alfred had to wait nearly the entire school year for Arthur to realize it. It wasn't until April that the English teen came knocking on his door after school, dressed in his usual light sweater and jeans, a pile of black and red in his hands.

"I wanted you to be the first to know that I'm done." He threw the pile into Alfred's garbage bin, stacking the rings and fake piercings on top. The tube of removable dye joined the pile, and Alfred stared as Arthur easily returned to his normal self.

"It was all fake?" he cried in shock.

"Of course! I told you that it was probably temporary. The tattoo is real, though, that's why I told you that it hurt."

Alfred frowned in confusion. "Why would you get a real tattoo and fake everything else?"

Arthur blushed. "I got drunk… my ever so responsible and trustworthy dorm mates coerced me into the tattoo parlor just off campus."

Alfred choked back the laughter that threatened to spill from his mouth. "Well I'm glad to have most of you back, _Artie_!"

"You and I both," Arthur smiled. He leaned into the American, who reflexively wrapped his arms around the Briton. "I missed you," he sighed comfortably.

Butterflies invaded Alfred's stomach. _'What, am I back in elementary school?'_ He smiled down at the teen in his arms. "I missed you, too."

* * *

Prom was suddenly upon them. Arthur couldn't believe how quickly time had elapsed. His acceptance letters had already arrived in the mail, but he still couldn't decide on a university. The reality of life had nailed him full-force in the past year, between the entire application process, taking a short excursion back to London with Alfred over spring break, and his eighteenth birthday a month ago, Arthur had almost had a mental breakdown. He wanted to attend university back in England, but didn't want to run the risk of losing his… _what was Alfred to him?_

He supposed he'd find out soon enough. He'd never forgotten that promise they'd made four years ago, and he was certain that Alfred hadn't either. As the final week before prom commenced, Arthur was a huge ball of anxiety.

"Is everything alright, Arthur-kun?" Kiku, the son of the Japanese ambassador, questioned. He had always been very observant.

"Yeah, I'm just nervous about prom, is all," he assured his friend.

"Ah, has Alfred-kun asked you, yet?"

Arthur blushed, gaze flickering to his book. "N-No, he has not. I'm not even sure if he will."

Kiku scoffed. "I do not mean to be rude, but isn't it a given that he will ask you? You two have been together since kindergarten."

Arthur recalled that Kiku had been in that same class with them. "I suppose so, but we made this agreement four years ago that I'm afraid he may honor in a negative fashion. Not to mention that he's gotten incredibly popular this year after winning the state championship with the American football team. They all expect him to go with the head cheerleader or another star athlete, not the student council president."

Kiku smiled knowingly. "Do not worry, Arthur-kun, he will ask you. You are all he ever talks about when we play video games together. I am certain that you two will end up together."

Arthur smiled gratefully at the Japanese teen. "Thank you, Kiku. But if he's really going to ask me, what's taking him so long?"

Suddenly, an announcement came over the PA system. "Arthur Kirkland, please report to the football field. Arthur Kirkland, please report to the football field."

Arthur shot Kiku an anxious glance, to which the other smirked and waved him off. The Briton grabbed Kiku's wrist, tugging him along.

It was such an unusual announcement, that most of the school followed them to see what the commotion was about. Cheers erupted when they saw Alfred standing at the top of a cheerleader pyramid, balloons floating around him and confetti being shot from cannons. Upon spotting Arthur, he raised a megaphone to his lips.

"Arthur Kirkland, will you go to prom with me?" he shouted through the apparatus, loud enough for the entire student body to hear.

Tears streamed down Arthur's cheeks, his hands flying to his mouth in delight. "Yes!" he screamed, though with all of the noise, he doubted the American could hear him.

He watched Alfred dismount gracefully and sprint to him. "What was that, babe, I couldn't hear you," he spoke through the megaphone, prompting the crowd to quiet down.

Arthur giggled as Alfred wrapped an arm around his shoulders, holding the device up to his mouth. "I said, 'yes,' you big goof!"

"He said, 'yes,' everyone!" Alfred repeated, throwing his arms around the Englishman as the surrounding students burst into cheers.

The marching band came out to play, launching into their own rendition of that Bruno Mars song from years past.

"I know that this is a few days premature," Alfred stated sheepishly, "but I just couldn't wait to tell you. Artie, _I think I wanna marry you_!"

Arthur could not longer contain his excitement, wrapping his arms around Alfred's neck and pulling him down into a chaste kiss. "_I think I wanna marry you_ too, love."

* * *

A/N: Okay, so today I found out that it's USUK Sweethearts Week 2015, and I'm pretty mad at myself for not checking this sooner. My goal is to participate in the rest of the days, (in case you don't/are not following it on Tumblr, this was the entry for Day 3).

In other news, I FINALLY PUBLISHED SOMETHING FOR MY OTP! ^.^

I have a lot of multi-chaptered stories for these two in the works, which is why this is the first published one, but I promise that it will not be the last!

Now to get work on the story for Day 4... see you guys tomorrow! ;)

*Side note: FFN would not allow me to format this the way that I wanted, so I apologize for the seemingly random time skips and awkward breaks*


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